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PRIVATE THOUGHTS 



UPON THE 









■ 



SLICKS OP ANTIQUITY, J 



PLEASANT RETIREMENT 



titrate** 



of 

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BY ANDREW HAYNEF 



^eto^orft 



A. R.V :rcein, 

I CQRHEa *>-' 



PRIVATE THOUGHTS 



UPON THE 



RELICKS OF ANTIQUITY, 



OR 



/ PLEASANT RETIREMENT 






#eto=s?orfc: 



^S WILLIAM A. MERCELN, PRINTER, 

13 BflRLING-SLIP, CORNER OB WATER-STREET. 



1826, 



V* 



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' Southern District of Ntic-York, sl. 
BE IT REMEMBERED, that on the Seventeenth 
day of August in the fiftieth year of the Independence of the 
United States of America, Andrew Haynes of the said district, 
hath deposited in this office the title of a Book, the right 
whereof he claims as Author, in the words following, to 
wit : 

11 Private thoughts on the Relicks of Antiquity, or Plea- 
sant retirement in Wales." 

In conformity to the act of Congress of the United States, 
entitled u An Act for the encouragement of Learning, by se- 
curing the copies of Maps, Charts, and Books to the authors 
and proprietors of such copies, during the time therein men- 
tioned." And also to an x\ct, enitled " An Act, supplemen- 
tary to an Act, entitled an Act for the encouragement of 
Learning, by securing the copies of Maps, Charts, and Books, 
to the authors and proprietors of such copies, during the 
times therein mentioned; and extending the benefits thereof to 
the arts of designing, engraving, and etching historical and 
other prints." 

JAMES DILL, 
Clerk of the Southern District of New-York. 



PREFACE. 



When the following letters were first 
written, I had not the slightest idea of 
making them public ; but, being at this 
time destitute of every other means of 
gaining emolument, I have been request- 
ed by many gentlemen to submit these 
epistles to the world. The apology for 
defects, and for youth and inexperience, 
and the acknowledgement of inability to 
resist the importunate solicitation of 
discerning friends, are ever supposed to 
be insincere, and should they be true, 
they ought to cause a total suppression 
of that work for which apologies are 
given. 

" Every one loves his own work," says 
the Stagyrite 5 " but it was no overwean- 
ing affection of this kind^vhich caused the 



PREFACE. 



present publication. I am only in pos- 
session of a few private thoughts made 
out as I travelled along with a pocket- 
book and pencil in my hand, to divert 
myself on the journey, and merely to be- 
guile a leisure hour; such as they are, 
I submit them to the reader's perusal. 
The deference due to the public, seems 
to require an apology for committing a 
private correspondence to the press. 
This would have been highly improper, 
if I had not concealed the names of per- 
sons and places ; and suppressed, as far 
as possible, every circumstance which 
might lead to the discovery of them — It 
is with deference that I submit these let- 
ters ; and I tremble as I put them into 
the hands of the public — They were first 
written with a very limited view : for 
the entertainment of a friend, and to be- 
guile the hours of a solitary journey — 
They were the secret whispers of my 



PREFACE. 



owrTheart. I trust they are harmless, 
and that if read, they will be found to 
contain nothing which can give the 
slightest offence to the true and great 

articles of religion and virtue. 

It is proper to make an apology to the 
public for the detail of many incidents, 
which, however interesting to myself, 
(especially at the time of writing) are 
certainly not sufficiently so to deserve 
general attention. It is difficult to draw 
an exact line; and to fix the proper 
medium. What some persons may blame* 
others may approve ; and my book is 
open to all. In the letters to which I 
intreat the lenity of the public, the critic 
will doubtless, find much to condemn. 
He may likewise, possibly, discover 
something to commend. If they who 
think lightly of religion, should treat all 
that I have written upon the subject as 
*olly, rant, or enthusiasm, I cannot help 



6 PREFACE. 

it. I only hope they will not be displeas- 
ed with me for expressing those senti- 
ments which are clearly revealed in the 
Gospel. Let profane minds laugh at it 
as much as they will, there is nevertheless 
a secret commerce between God and the 
souls of good men ; they feel the influence 
of heaven. And whatever vain thoughts 
men may entertain of religion in their 
younger days, they will, sooner or later, 
feel the testimony which God has im- 
planted in the breast of every man, and 
which will one day make him serious — 
either in the inexpressible fears, terrors, 
and agonies of a troubled mind, or in an 
inconceivable peace, comfort, and joy, 
arising from a good conscience. What 
a blessing it is to live in a nation whose 
general characteristic is sincerity. In 
which ingenuous freedom is honoured 
with esteem ; and where the unmerited 
malignity of anonymous slanderers will 



PREFACE. 7 

have its reward from favour and honest 
hearted Americans — who, above all, 
honour truth wherever they find it. 

Thus much have I said, in order to 
solicit the reader's favourable and candid 
perusal of what is now put into his hands. 
That the ensuing reflections may prove 
useful to him is the sincere wish of 
His most humble servant, 

A. HAYNES. 



LETTER I. 

On visiting a ruined castle, and a cascade, during 
a fine summer's evening. And, a walk in a 
church-yard. 

LETTER II. 

The author's evening ramble, after a day's con- 
finement to his study. 

LETTER III. 

On visiting a castle in the time of snow. Eve- 
ning reflections. 

LETTER IV. 

A voyage to England ; and the castle in ruins, 
seen on a fine summer's evening ; — also, 
thoughts whilst moving across the mountains. 

LETTER V. 

An Abbey's ruins, seen on a summer's evening. 



LUTTERS. 



LETTER I. 

Dear Friend, 

I arrived at the small town from which 
I date my letter, at ten o'clock this 
evening. The coach I intended to pro- 
ceed in being gone, I have been under 
the necessity of stopping here for the 
night ; although I am sixty miles short 
of my destination. 

In a walk I have just taken across the 
fields, I came to a path leading through 
a gloomy, terrific, and extensive forest. 
It led me into a truly alpine-like valley. 
A rapid torrent roared over broken 
fragments of rock, and fell in vast sheets. 
Towards the extremity of this scene, an 
immense black mountain presented its 



12 LETTERS. 

naked, craggy clefts in front. And, at 
the very end, the scene became exceed- 
ingly beautiful; a forest was clad in 
cheerful green — melody and beauty fill- 
ed the groves — the lark was heard from 
the retirement of the forest, mingling 
her notes with the soft tones of the lin- 
net; and a whole tribe of feathered 
choristers made the woods vocal with 
their music. Every thing that had life, 
felt the influence of so sweet a morning ; 
and all around was joy and ecstacy. I 
continued to wander along the path, 
until, of a sudden, there appeared the 
ruins of a magnificent castle. 

" Oh," said I, " yonder are the relicks 
of antiquity ! Those walls once re- 
sounded with the voice of man ; the 
sounds of hilarity, of grief, and of mourn- 
ing have had their turns there." 

Here I left the path; and directed my 
steps towards the ruins, which I entered. 



LETTERS, 13 

I proceeded through dark and intricate 
windings, until they terminated at a 
broad flight of steps, which did not ap- 
pear to be so much shattered as the rest 
of the building. I ascended them. 
Their immense height, and gloomy and 
terrific aspect, filled my mind, in a mo- 
ment, with terror. Every part too of 
the vast structure presented an air of 
melancholy grandeur ; whilst the height 
and vastness of its numerous towers — 
raised at different angles over the moss- 
covered walls — increased its terrific and 
threatening aspect. To this asylum, the 
deadly scolopendra and other noisome 
and infectious reptiles had come ; pro- 
claiming, as I advanced, by their united 
hissings, their fears and antipathy to the 
human race. The extensive landscape, 
beheld from this elevated situation, was 
full of beauty; for it overlooked a con- 
siderable valley. No language can ade- 
2 



14 LETTE? 

quately describe the scene which, at this 
time, presented itself. First of all. I 
59* a handsome amphitheatre, which 
seemed like the last harrier of the world. 
Turning the eye a little round, a nrig] 
cascade precipitated itself in one un- 
: tall from a majestic rock, which 
projected very far from its frail him 
dati 

It was almost stittet when I gamed 
this sir >ked down with de- 

light upon the vale below. I could see. 
at a great distance, the weary plough- 
man retiring from the toils of the day; 
and. in another direction, the cheerful 
shepherd desc z from the hill — ac- 

com 1 by his faithful dog. the com- 

panion of his steps and the partner o' 
his toil. 

I sat myself down upon a moss-cover, 
ed wall, in order to contemplate, at lei- 
sure, the sublime scenerv around me : 



LETTERS. 15 

for, on either side, the boundless pros- 
pect I beheld, far exceeded in diversity 
and grandeur, any thing I had before 
seen. 

" Alas !" said I, " where are the 
descendants of those who formerly lived 
here in splendour. Have they left the 
beauty of these lofty hills, which the 
hands of man never formed, for the 
monumentsx and towers of the town 
which have been erected by mortals ; or, 
was the heir young and simple, and led 
astray by the luring looks and fair 
speeches of a worthless female — spent 
his estate — died in extreme poverty — 
and his posterity, never able to redeem 
the estate or title of their ancestors, 
obliged to serve their fellow-mortals 
even in degrading and low offices ? Or, 
was the possessor an heiress, a fair fe- 
male, seduced by a villain — robbed of 
honour, and degraded in name ; at length. 



16 LETTERS* 

a prostitute, and her issue never heard 
of? Or, did the owner turn a rebel 
against his king ; — or commit suicide, 
and forfeit his title and estate to the 
laws of his country ? Or, was there 
a controversy between two near rela- 
tives, as to which was rightful owner; 
and who, spending all their estate in 
law, left this delightful dwelling a prey 
to ruin ?" 

As I sat in the silence of the evening, 
contemplating the sublimity of the scene, 
I observed a venerable old sage, whose 
head was silvered from age. I hastened 
down to inquire of him the reason why 
the mansion was left in this dilapidated 
state. 

;; Pray, honoured father," said I, 
64 canst thou tell .me the cause of all this 
grandeur mouldering into ruin ?" 

He cast a look of astonishment at me, 
and exclaimed, ;; art thou so far ad- 



LETTERS. 17 

vanced in thy journey to the grave, and 
yet hast never heard of the civil war 
with which this country was visited. 
That was a time of trial for the bravest 
men of our land ; for, instead of employ- 
ing their courage in the defence of the 
land of their birth, each man turned 
against his kinsmen, and the dearest 
friends — embracing opposite sides — pre- 
pared to bury their private affections in 
factious hatred. 'After a single battle, it 
is said, there were found five thousand 
dead bodies on the field ; and the streets 
of the town have often been strewed 
with the slain; the rivulets have run 
with human blood; and the air resound- 
ed with the groans of the wounded. The 
fatherless, helpless orphans, and the be- 
reaved widow were heard lamenting in 
every grove. Come with me, and view 
the effects of cruel war ; and consider 
what pleasure it can yield an usurper — 
2* 



18 LETTERS. 

should he gain his ambitous end. 
L ; ok at him when bis : - I eg 

to speak. T assassinatioti 

haunts him in all his walks ; and 
petually present to his imagination. In 
his visions, and in his imperfect slum- 
bers, prop tigs ^: 

disturbed mind : his -huddering 
heart is tilled with hor: ed only to 

guilt — he stands and treml 

amidst the fears which an evil eon- 
nee has created — it is 
not in the power off rith alHts glit- 
tering appendages, nor in the enjoyment 
of exalted station, to dissipate and 
ameliorate. His aspect is clouded with 

'. regards 
stranger with ; nned suspicion. 

5of nrifies here he i 

set with an enemy: and solitude 
terrible, tor he is then without the gu 
a friend. At last, he becomes iral: 



LETTERS. 19 

and the powerful hand of death snatches 
him away, to receive the reward of the 
deeds done in the body." 

" Go thy way, my son," said the vene- 
rable sage ; " and beware of ambition. 
For ; what shall it profit a man if he gain 
the whole world and lose his own soul ?' 
you have spent your life in some mercan- 
tile enjoyment; you have borne the heat 
of the torrid zone, for the sake of acquir- 
ing treasure : but, in the activity of your 
pursuit, you have not found time to think 
of God, or of your own soul. But you 
have succeeded in your pursuit ; you are 
in the possession of lands, carriages, 
servants — every thing which luxury and 
pride can demand or riches supply. Yet, 
life is short ; and death approaches every 
hour. Remember that the King of ter- 
rors is not to be bribed by the largest 
fortune ; and it is dross in the eye of 
Heaven. There," continued he, " is a 



20 LETTERS. 

path which leads to a church-yard. Go 
down there, and you will see the end of 
all human pursuits." 

As I slowly walked down the dark and 
lonely path which led from the majestic 
ruin to the church-yard, the wind passed 
me with a melancholy murmur ; and filled 
me with horror. My heart trembled 
within me; and my legs refused their 
office. I rested myself against the 
mouldering wall at the side of the path. 

" Oh ! mortal man" said I, " of what 
art thou affraid ? what causest thee to 
tremble upon approaching the place 
appointed for all living.' Thou heir of 
the grave, why shudderest thou when 
thou art going to view thy estate ; and 
which has long been thine by inheritance ? 
It can be nothing but guilt which causes 
thee to tremble ; for thou art sure that 
this lifeless dust, and these ashes, can- 
not harm or injure thee. And where 



LETTERS. 



21 



it possible for any of the sleeping inhabi- 
tants of this dreary abode to appear, 
surely it would be most acceptable to 
thee to hear from the grave the wonders 
of the unknown world. But, ah! the 
grave is a country from whose bourne 
no traveller returns. Well might the 
poet say : 

1 But ah ! no word to us they give ; 
6 Nor tell us where, or how they live ; 
1 Though conscious, while with us below, 
c How much themselves desired to know. 
1 As if bound up by solemn fate, 

* To keep the secret of their state ; 

* To tell their joys or pains to none : 
c That man might live by faith alone.' 

From whence then does this fear arise ? 
Hast thou shed the blood of thy brother? 

Surely thou hast not rendered Christ 
the obedience and the honour which are 
due to him, or this fear would not come 
upon thee as thou dost approach thp< 



22 LETTERS. 

grave, over which he gained a victory 
for thee. Move on, thou sinful mortal; 
take encouragement from the prayer 
which came from thy blessed Saviour, 
while he was extended upon the cross : 
when he said, fc Father, forgive them, for 
they know not what they do.' Why 
dost thou stand distressing thy feeble 
soul with the fear of approaching death ? 
Behold the first and great consolation 
under it : faith in Jesus Christ ; who, 
through Death, destroyed him who had 
the power of death, and gained a victory 
over him and Satan by the sacrifice of 
himself on the cross. Look at the tri- 
umphant conqueror, who died on the 
cross ; and who laid in the grave to 
sanctify it for guilty sinners. See how 
he shed his precious blood to obtain free 
pardon for all their offences. If we, 
through the eye of faith, look steadfastly 
unto him, and beg for a free pardon of 



LETTERS. 23 

all our iniquities, we also shall triumph 
over that enemy which he hath already 
vanquished." 

When I entered the church-yard, 
I said, " Here is the end of all human 
grandeur. Oh, may we learn to think 
nothing great in life : for here we are to 
day, and to-morrow we are gone as a 
shadow. Nothing can be truly great 
which is uncertain : for why should we 
count that great which must so soon have 
an end ? — methinks I hear the wind, that 
murmurs through the trees, say to me : 
i child of the dust, be humble and be 
wise $ for those, amongst whose tombs 
thou art now wandering, were like thee 
but a few days since< — flourishing in the 
fair field of this earthly state. Some of 
them, in all the power of which existence 
could boast ; high in honour ; dignified 
with the royal favour; abounding in 
wealth ; and courted and flattered by 



24 



LETTERS. 



the crowd. Others were never heard 
of, or known only by a few friends or by 
their own relations ; they were almost 
destitute of food, and wandered nearly 
naked — but they are all upon a level 
now ! The form which once gave plea- 
sure to all around it, now creates only 
pain and sorrow. The limbs which 
moved with such vigour, are now stiffen- 
ed ; the face is clouded with paleness ; 
the eye, closed in darkness ; the ear, 
deaf; the voice, dumb ; and the whole 
appearance, ghastly and dreadful. The 
spirit has deserted its ruined habitation, 
and winged its way into the unknown 
and vast world. 9 " 

I could not help exclaiming in the 
silence of the night : " O death ! how 
wonderful thou art ! Here stand I, full 
of life, health smiling on my cheeks and 
sparkling in mine eyes, my active feet 
ready to bear me briskly along, and my 



LETTERS. 25 

hands prompt to execute their appointed 
offices. Scenes of felicity are before 
me ; my busy soul is planning future hap- 
piness and peace : but the moment is 
coming, perhaps, is near, when life's 
feeble pulse shall play no longer. For 
what is man : and what is his life ? [ Man, 
that is born of a woman, hath but a short 
time to live.' Short, indeed, even sup- 
posing it to extend to the usual period oi 
human existence, over fourscore years. 
And, alas! the extension of life, is but an 
extension of sorrow ; the time, though 
short, is full of misery. Threescore 
years and ten, are the total of our days ; 
or if, bv reason of greater strength, some 
arrive at fourscore, yet doth the strength 
of the old man prove but grief, and la- 
bour : for he is soon cut down, flies hence, 
and is no more seen. Our best happi- 
ness on earth is short : we flourish as a 
flower to-dav, but, alas, to-morrow the 
3 



26 



LETTERS. 



taste will no more relish its delicacies, 
nor the ear be delighted with the elo- 
quence of the orator. No ionger will 
the tongue express the pleasure or pain 
of the heart ; the eyes will open no more 
on sublunary scenes; the cheeks which 
now glow with health, shall then become 
pale ; the feet will refuse their powers ; 
and the useless hands fall heavily by the 
side. Farewell, then, all the engaging 
scenes around me : ' for as the shadow 
that departeth, it fleeth away ; and its 
place is known no more.' So we vanish 
from the earth : and our memory is soon 
buried in oblivion. To us, little regard 
is any longer paid ; our associates, with 
their usual gaiety and ardour, pursue 
their several avocations ; and while our 
neglected clay is mouldering in the dust, 
the business of life goes briskly on ; the 
sun shines as bright ; the earth blooms 
as gaily; the flowers smell as sweetly. 



LETTERS. 27 

the plants spring with like greenness ; 
and the world proceeds in its old course. 
The forest echoes sweetly with the 
music of its winged inhabitants ; and all 
things wear their accustomed form. To 
this humble level must descend the 
occupier of a throne, as well as the 
tenant of a cottage. Here, wisdom and 
folly, learning, and ignorance, refine- 
ment, and vulgarity, will lie down to- 
gether. Hither moves, with an uncon- 
scious, but regular step ; that beauty 
which has illuminated the gay-assembly's 
gayest room, and subdued the heart even 
of the conqueror himself. And she says, 
4 1 sat as queen and thought I should see 
no sorrow.' All must thus ultimately say 
to corruption : ' Thou art my father, and 
to the worm, thou art my mother and my 
sister.' [ 

" O death, hast thou no respect to 
youth and beauty ! can nothing divert 



28 LETTERS. 

thee from thy prey ! dost thou seize 
alike upon the learned sage and the 
illiterate peasant — the helpless child — 
and gray headed old man ? Canst thou 
prey upon youth and beauty, piety and 
usefulness ?" 

" Behold yonder cemetery ! — see the 
fond mother, weeping over the grave of 
a beloved child. He was her only hope, 
her only son : and she is a widow ! — 
There, is an elegant youth reclining on 
the cold urn of her whom he loved ; — he 
seems fixed as a weeping statue; his 
heart is entombed with his fair one. See 
the tears run down his manly cheeks, in 
torrents of grief; ' his eyes are like foun- 
tains of water;' she was lovely in her 
person, and amiable in her manners ; he 
promised himself many years of happi- 
ness in a* society so agreeable. But 
alas ! how uncertain is all created bliss ; 
sickness first faded, and then death 



LETTERS. 



29 



withered the flower. Go, disappointed 
youth, expect not to find happiness on 
earth j fix thy affection on things above ;' 
get an interest in the love of the Saviour; 
for his love is stronger than death, and 
will continue when all things else decay. 
Here, is one contemplating the grave of 
a friend ; ; they took sweet counsel to- 
gether, and walked to the house of God 
in company.' How congenial were their 
sentiments, and how often did they bow 
down together before the Father of 
spirits ; and enkindle in each other's 
breast an ardent flame of devotion and 
love ! See him, about to leave the 
sacred spot ; he turns and takes another 
look, and cries out, ' I am distressed for 
thee, my brother — very pleasant were't 
thou to me as we travelled on our journey 
to the grave.' Look, at yonder aged 
father, following his only son to the tomb. 

He was the comfort of his old age, and 

3* 



30 LETTERS. 

the only hope of his gray hairs. See, 
how the tears rush from the eyes which 
have become dim ; and hark to the fal- 
tering tongue, exclaiming, \ O, Absalom, 
my son, my son, would to God I had died 
for thee.' 

" Dark and intricate are thy ways, O 
Lord ! Why do I indulge in such vain 
and idle speculations ! May I wait, with 
humble submission, the consummation of 
all things ; then shall the mysteries of 
Providence be unfolded, and the ways of 
God fully vindicated to man. " I think 
I hear whispered to me ; ' what art thou 
seeking, child of the dust, with such 
restless assiduity ? Look up, and behold 
the heavens, where dwelleth the Judge 
of the world, at whose word the pillars 
of the sky were formed, and its beau- 
teous arches raised ; whose breath 
kindled the stars, adorned the moon 
with silver rays, and gave the sun its 



LETTERS. 31 

flaming splendour.' Who made the earth 
out of nothing ; who spake, and it was 
done : commanded, and it stood fast ; 
who prepared for the waters their capa- 
cious bed ; and, by his power, set bounds 
to the raging billows : by him were the 
valleys clothed in their flowery pride, 
and the mountains arrayed with groves. 
His voice is heard in the thunder; and 
he scattereth his lightnings abroad. 
He rideth on the wings of the wind ; the 
mountains smoke, and the forest trembles 
at his approach. The summer, and the 
winter, the shady night, and the bright 
revolutions of the day, are his. 4 He 
formed thee, O man, out of the dust ; and 
breathed in thee a living soul.' By his 
hands thou art placed a short period 
upon earth ; and when he shall give the 
tremendous summons, thou must drop 
thy earthly body and appear as an im- 
mortal soul, before his judgement seaf. 



32 LETTERS. 

An eternity awaits thee for blessedness 
or misery. As thou hast sown in this 
world, so shalt thou reap in the world to 
come. Go thy way. Keep immortality 
in view ; live eveFy day as one who 
knoweth that to-morrow he must leave 
the inn of this uncertain life ; enter on 
a state which can never be changed, and 
which shall never have an end.' * 

I must here pause : for the night is far 
spent. 

Oh, my soul, can any thing more be 
wanting to stir thee up, in order to lay 
hold of the hope set before thee, than the 
thoughts of Death, Judgement, and Eter- 
nity ! Commit thy soul into the arms 
of an ever-living Redeemer, who died 
to save his people from their sins — a 
Father, whose unwearied care is over all 
his works, and whose watchful provi- 
dence extendeth to the minutest con- 
cerns of his creatures. 



LETTERS. 



33 



In that reviving truth, may you and I, 
my friend, find comfort under every trial 
and affliction; and especially when the 
moment of death approaches ; that mo- 
ment which will be received by those 
children who have been submissive to 
such a Father, with holy resignation and 
thankfulness. 

I am, dear sir, 

Your's truly, 

A. Haynes. 



LETTERS. 35 



LETTER II. 



Dear Friend, 

After a day's confinement to my study, 
I went out for an evening walk ; and 
wandered to that lonely spot where 
many a departed villager has found a 
peaceful grave. Though their tombs 
displayed no proud armorial-bearing, or 
laboured composition of the poet's pen, 
yet, underneath the green turf was the 
unpolished dust of simple honesty. The 
breasts which here laid mouldering in 
the ashes, did once beat with ardent 
love, the tongue uttered the artless elo- 
quence of nature, and the heart glowed 
with sympathy whenever the sigh of 
calamity assailed it. 

So suited was my mind to sadness, 
that I felt a melancholy pleasure in 
walking under the gothic -like arches of 



36 LETTERS. 

trees which surrounded the consecrated 
enclosure ; and as I was thus indulging 
myself, 1 was roused by the sound of 
instrumental music, played at the Mont- 
pelier gardens. I then rambled pen- 
sively to that spot. On my arrival, they 
were playing " God save the King ;" and 
which was the last tune for that evening. 
I sat down on a bench, placed at the 
side of the walk. The fashionables soon 
began to retire to their respective habi- 
tations. The day declined, and a dusky 
gloom overspread the surrounding scene- 
ry. The little birds had ceased their 
warbling, and were asleep upon the 
boughs. No murmur of bees was heard 
among the honied woodbines ; they had 
done their work, and laid close within 
their waxen cells. The sheep rested 
upon their soft fleeces, and their bleating 
was no longer heard from the plains. 
There was no sound of human voices. 



LETTERS. 37 

of trampling, busy feet, or of people 
going to and fro. The smiths hammer, 
and the harsh saw of the carpenter, were 
not heard ; and all things were quiet and 
still. Oh, what a pleasing tranquility 
-sggrvaded throughout this lovely land* 
scape, it was both sublime and delightful. 
The effect of the moonlight at the end 
of the wood, the modest brilliancy of 
which, was heightened by the surround- 
ing darkness of the place, and the so- 
lemnity of the dreary scene, was so truly 
consonant with my souPs sadness, as to 
effect me exceedingly. When I beheld 
the moonlight, it recalled to my mind 
those who had once been dear to me ; 
but who were now no more, I ruminated 
over happy days, which never could re- 
turn. Ah, what vicissitudes has time 
produced ! Alas, the bright flower of 
human life has faded since it blossomed, 
and perished before attaining its matu- 



g£ LETTERS. 

rity; it has fled, without leaving a single 
trace. But, why do I murmur : we must 
soon follow. Time, in its rapid progress* 
hurries every thing away ; and our tran- 
sient life, carried along with the torrent, 
is either swallowed up by the furious 
waves, or dashed to pieces against the 
rocks. I here became impressed with 
the thoughts of death, and a future state. 
I wonder if the souls of those whom we 
have loved, and whose memories are still 
dear to us, are sensible of our regard, 
and have a knowledge of the happy mo- 
ments we have enjoyed together ? Me- 
thinks, the shade of my dear friend hovers 
around me, as I sit in contemplation with- 
in this sequestered bower, and in the 
cool of the evening. We are often cast 
down upon knowing how few there are 
who serve God in spirit and in truth ; 
and we are almost ready to complain 
with Elijah, that we only are left to serv^ 



LETTERS. 



39 



God. But, Jesus is not slighted in yon- 
der world as he is in this. If, like the 
servant of Elisha, our eyes were super- 
naturally opened to take a glance within 
the veil, what a glorious and striking- 
prospect should we behold in the innum- 
erable host of angels and souls of just 
men made perfect. These thoughts ex- 
hilarate my sinking soul, and diffuse new 
feelings within one ; and lead me to an- 
ticipate all that pleasing tranquility 
which shall be enjoyed by the people of 
God amidst those delectable hills and 
harmonious vales on high. " Oh that I 
had wings like a dove ; for then would I 
flee away and be at rest." This was the 
language of the sweet singer of Israel. 
His strain, when he uttered these words, 
was yery mournful ; having been driven 
from his palace by Absalom his son. 
On this account, he wishes to be borne 
aloft ; in order that he may alight in 



40 



LETTERS. 



some solitary grove, and, undisturbed, 
pour out his plaintive note in every di- 
rection. But these words have not only 
been David's language, but they have 
been uttered by many truly pious men 
in successive ages, and even to the pre- 
sent hour. But what are the causes of 
this ardent wish, when proceeding from 
true christians ? They know that whilst 
in the present life they are in an enemy's 
country, in a world hostile to religion, 
that they are at a distance from the king- 
dom of their heavenly Father ; in a cli- 
mate, not congenial with their spiritual 
growth, but where clouds, storms, and 
tempests, frequently obstruct the genial 
rays of the sun of righteousness. Here 
christians have only a taste of happiness ; 
and it is therefore they often exclaim 
with the Psalmist of ancient days, " Oh 
that I had wings like a dove, for then 
would I flee away and be at rest." But 



LETTERS. 41 

where ? to whom ? and to what world 
would they direct their flight ? As a re- 
fuge from their Absaloms and Ahitophels, 
they would fly to him who is a friend 
that sticketh closer than a brother. 

When all our earthly friends forsake 
us, the faith we have in Jesus Christ rises 
like a lark towards the celestial city ; 
it is a living principle enabling its pos- 
sessor to ascend to the skies, and rest 
upon the love of the Saviour. What an 
inestimable privilege it is, that while we 
are here below, we have access to the 
throne of grace in prayer ! Nothing can 
debar the Christian from the enjoyment 
of this favour, at least, in the way of si- 
lent ejaculation. A round of business, or 
excess of labour, cannot hinder the ele- 
vation of the soul to the Majesty on high : 
from couches of sickness, or the deepest 
dungeons, the ardent petition may ascend 

unobstructed, to the ear of the Deity. 

4* 



42 LETTERS. 

Neither chains nor fetters can prevent 
the force of fervent prayer. The body 
may be bound in affliction and iron, but 
the spirit is free ; and mounts aloft to 
the regions of light and love. Our hea- 
venly Father can support us in the dark- 
est hour : and cause our sinking hearts 
to rejoice. He has pledged his word 
that his grace shall be sufficient for us ; 
and, that " as our day is, so shall be our 
strength." How consoling is the reflec- 
tion, that we are in the hands of God, 
who can do nothing wrong by us. If we 
are members of his family, " all things 
will work together for good." Trials 
will wean us from this alluring world, 
and prepare us " for that rest which is 
reserved for the righteous. When our 
spirits sink within us, and lose their 
relish for terrestrial objects, we can lift 
up our hearts in ^humble anticipation, 
and say, " though this be a dark, forlorn 



LETTERS. 43 

world, yet it is but a short time that we 
shall be here. " Soon shall our weary 
feet greet the peaceful inn of everlasting 
repose. The trials of this short life will 
soon be over ; then we shall bid an eter- 
nal farewell to this passing world ; and, 
if interested in the covenant, we shall 
find " the rest which remaineth for the 
people of God." 

It is a consolation that life is short r 
however great may be my trials, they 
are not permanent. I humbly trust I 
commit my all into the hands of the 
good Shepherd; willing that he should 
dispose of me as he sees best. He has 
given me friends ; he has given me many 
earthly comforts ; and although he has 
now appointed me trials greater than I 
have before known, still, I think I can 
say, " Thy will be done ;" give me hum- 
ble resignation to thy will, O my God, 
and I ask no more. The presence of 



44 LETTERS. 

Immanuel will make a deserted cottage, 
a foreign land, or even, a lonely desert, 
desirable. 

Ah, my friend, we are both young, we 
may live many years yet ; and see good 
in them all. But let us remember the 
days of darkness, for they too will be 
many. It is decreed by infinate wisdom, 
that through much tribulation we must 
enter into the kingdom of heaven. You, 
my friend have had your share of ad- 
versity ; and I have had mine — but we 
will not complain. Sanctified afflictions 
are the choicest favours of heaven ; they 
cure us of our vain and foolish worldly 
expectations, and teach our thoughts 
and affections to ascend and be fixed on 
joys that never die : we have therefore 
cause for continual praise. The Lord 
has given us to know his name as a rest- 
ing place, a sun and shield; circum- 
stances and creatures may change, but 



LETTERS. 45 

he will be an unchangeable friend. The 
way is rough, but he trod it before us ; 
and he is with us in every step we take — 
and we know that each step brings us 
nearer to our heavenly home. Our in- 
heritance is prepared for us ; and we 
shall be kept in it by his power through 
faith. Our present strength is small, and 
without a fresh supply would be quickly 
exhausted. But he has engaged to renew 
it from day to day, and he will soon 
appear, to wipe all tears from our eyes. 
Then shall we be with him in glory. 
I am 

Yours, &c. 

A. Haynes. 



LETTERS 



LETTER III. 



47 



Dear Friend, 

I walked out early this morning, to 
view the wonders of nature. The trees 
were covered with hoar-frost; and the 
mist laid close in the valley, so that it 
was impossible to see any thing which 
was not quite near. As I stood contem- 
plating the beauty of the trees, which 
were entirely covered with white, I was 
aroused, in a moment, by the sound of 
hounds ; and which, in a few minutes, I 
could perceive in full speed after a hare. 
I followed them to the top of a high 
mountain, but 1 there lost sight of them. 

I stood still, and began to reflect upon 
the folly of my pursuit. I wish I had 
words to describe the beauty of the 
scenery which at that time surrounded 
jae. The sun shone bright; no land 



48 LETTERS. 

was to be seen, save the elevated sum- 
mits of two neighbouring mountains, 
whose lofty tops stretched towards hea- 
ven. The mist overspread the land- 
scape as far as the eye could reach, and 
appeared like a vast ocean. Nor did it 
appear as if it would disperse. But, 
alas ! while I stood ruminating upon its 
grandeur, it began to vanish ; and as I 
gazed upon it, it disappeared. All the 
power of man was unable to preserve it 
for one moment ; nor could any person 
tell from whence it came, or whither it 
was gone. Nothing could exhibit a finer 
illustration of the vanity of human life. 
Men concert plans, as if their works 
were to endure for ever ; but the win4 
passes over them and they are gone. In 
the midst of their preparation, or at far- 
thest, when thinking they have just com-? 
pleted their schemes, their breath goes 
out of their nostrils, £tnd they return to 



LETTERS, 49 

the (lust. In that very day their thoughts 
perish ; and all they have been concerned 
about will be to them no more than the 
remembrance of a dream. This truth 
is too obvious to be denied; but the 
greater part of mankind act as if they 
were convinced it was false ; yet, " Oh, 
that men were wise, that they would 
" consider their latter end — in the midst 
of life we are in death," power cannot 
awe, wealth cannot bribe, beauty cannot 
charm, nor can the most melliflous elo- 
quence divert, the great spoiler from his 
prey. Alas, how does he destroy the 
fairest flowers in the garden of hope ; 
he pays no respect to age or sex. He 
enters with equal indifference, into the 
hut of penury, and the seat of affluence. 
As I walked over these cold, snowy 
mountains, I 'spied a large forest ; and 
there seemed to stand in the midst of it 
a magnificent building. But, as I ad- 



50 LETTERS. 

vanced, I perceived it was mouldering 
into ruins. " Alas," said I, " where is 
the architect who founded the plan for 
this mansion ; and what is become of the 
mechanic who carried the work into 
execution. They have long since been 
laid in the silent grave ; and are mould- 
ering in the dust. The head of the 
architect has been trodden over by the 
foot of the careless sexton ; and the 
arm of the mechanic by him who digged 
the grave for his fellow-creature : unmind- 
ful that he himself would have to go 
down by the side of the pit and make 
his bed in the dust." 

As I entered the splendid ruin, I said; 
" Oh, what does thy former splendour 
now avail ; — nothing now remains of 
thee, but these mouldering columns, 
around which the creeping ivy intwines 
itself! The fox looks out of the window, 
and the lonely thistle shakes its head. 



LETTERS. 51 

Nothing is now heard to break the so- 
lemn silence pervading these remains of 
ancient grandeur, but the croaking of 
the raven, and the shriek of the owl. 
Draw near, ye sons of ambition, and 
view with me the end of earthly pride. 
Where are the emperors of Assyria, 
Greece, and Rome, so celebrated among 
the nations of antiquity ? The sceptre is 
departed from them, and given to ano- 
ther. Where are the ambitious projects 
of the Macedonian chiefs? What has 
become of the power of Caesar? Where 
is the wisdom of Plato and Socrates 
gone ? Where are the heroes of rncient 
song, who astonished the world by their 
virtues ? They are passed away like 
the transient gleam of a taper; and only 
are remembered by impressing us with a 
sense of the vanity of human greatness. 
Here every object reminds man of 
mortality. The ^ mountains, so lately 



o£ LETTERS. 

covered with herbage, and the valleys 
sinking with waving ears of corn, are now 
changed in their appearance, and clad 
in snow. The trees, so lately arrayed in 
cheerful green, are now dismantled of 
their gay attire : for even those nobler 
powers of human life, which seem to 
have something angelic in them — I mean 
wit, fancy, gay-imagination, and capa- 
cious memory — are all subject to the 
same laws of decay and death. In vain 
does the aged poet, or the painter, call 
up the muse, or the genius of his youth, 
and summon all the arts of imagination 
to conceive and paint, in attractive co- 
lours, some visionary scene. In vain 
does the student of nature recall the 
pleasant seasons, when he indulged him- 
self by the stream of water, and the 
sw r eet melody of the inhabitants of the 
forest, and contemplated the wonders 
of the sun and moon, and the beauties of 



LETTERS. 53 

the starry heavens ; and useless was it for 
the elegant orator to display that bold 
and elegant figure, and all those flowing 
images, which gave ardour, grace, and 
dignity to his early compositions, and 
charmed those who heard him ; they are 
fled beyond the reach of their owner's 
call. The time of this being is passed, 
and they have vanished and are lost. 
The God of nature has fixed an impassi- 
ble limit to all the powers, pleasures, 
and glories of this mortal state. But 
how different will the view of past life 
appear to the man who has grown old in 
knowledge and wisdom, from what it will 
to him who has attained an old age . of 
ignorance and folly. The latter is 
obliged to look back, as it were, upon a 
dreary landscape, that fills the eye with 
the prospect of naked hills and plains j 
producing nothing profitable or orna- 
mental. The other, beholds a beautiful 
5* 



54 LETTERS. 

country, divided into green meadows 
and fruitful fields ; he reviews the path 
of life, which has been strewed with 
mercy, and, with cheering thoughts, an- 
ticipates the glory awaiting him. Let us 
contemplate, for a moment, the changes 
we have seen in every department of 
life. We have seen new ministers at 
court, new judges on the bench, and new 
priests at the altar of the Lord. We 
have seen different kings upon the 
throne ; we have seen peace, and war ; 
and peace again. How many of our 
equals in age have we survived; how 
many persons younger than ourselves 
have we seen carried to the grave ! 
Year after year has made a blank in the 
number of our friends. The same fate 
which took them away, awaits us. Even 
now the decree is gone forth. The king 
of terrors hath received his commission; 
and is now on his way. Oh, how tieet- 



LETTERS. 55 

ing and vain is life ! It is but a lingering 
death. Our days speed apace. Each 
one bears away its own burthen, to return 
no more. Both the pleasures and pains 
which are past, are gone for ever. What 
is to come, will likewise soon be past. 
; The end is coming' — Oh that you and 
1 may realize our thoughts ; and now 
judge of things in some measure suita- 
ble to the judgement we shall form of 
them when we are about to leave." 

So inspiring was the scene around, 
that it absorbed all ideas of the world. 
The feathered songsters poured forth 
their sweet melody ; hymning with ar- 
dour the praise of heaven, and warbling 
the glories of their great Creator. The 
vaulted sky appeared deeply tinged with 
a lonely blue ; and while I gazed upon 
its beauty, I felt my mind impressed 
with sublime ideas respecting the heav- 
enly Architect. At a distance the moun- 



56 LETTERS. 

tail s penetrated the clouds with their 
aspiring tops ; rising like a grand amphi- 
theatre. Some were clad with mantling 
vines, or towering cedars ; others, ragged 
with misshapen rocks and yawning with 
subterraneous caves, arrested and con- 
densed the vapours floating along. Their 
caverned bowels collected the dripping 
treasure, and after sending it gradually 
abroad in trickling springs, the waters 
increased, rolled down till they swelled 
into rivers, and swept through the most 
extensive climes and regained their na- 
tive sea. 

Lost in astonishment and wonder, I 
began to reflect : " Do not these things 
teach us some instructive lessons : and 
which, if attended to, will prove to us a 
source of comfort, joy, and peace ? Let 
us then, while reflecting on these created 
excellencies, be taught to adore their 
Creator, who hath not only said, 4 I am 



LETTERS. 57 

Alpha? but also ; I am Omega? Great 
is his name ; unsearchable his nature; 
and his ways are past finding out. Who- 
ever explored the depth of his mercy, 
or scanned the height ot his wisdom ? 
Whoever searched the length of his 
goodness; or comprehended the breadth 
of his love to man ? He is nOw inviting 
us to partake of those treasures which 
never wax old. What joy and peace 
doth it afford the christian, even while 
he is on his pilgrimage here below! 
These set him, as it were, on the top of 
the mount Nebo, and there give him a 
foretaste of the promised happiness. If 
the mercies we now receive as the earn- 
est, be so choice and solacing, how rich, 
how immensely great, shall the inheri- 
tance be ! If the first fruits be so satisfying, 
how full shall the harvest be ! If we enjoy 
such a ray of light in the person, what a 
glorious sun must shine in the palace J 



58 LETTERS. 

If we possess such a joy in the anticipa- 
tion, what happiness we shall possess in 
the consummation of eternally living ! 
How inconceivably happy shall we be 
when we enter that better world, where 
no vain imagination misleads the will; 
where sorrow is for ever unknown ! The 
Lord Jesus Christ swallows up death 
in victory. He dies no more ; death 
hath no more dominion over him : at the 
appointed hour he will complete the 
salvation of his people. The Lord of 
glory has triumphed over death, by as- 
cending into heaven, and sitting down 
at the right hand of the Majesty on high; 
leading captive, at the same time, death, 
principalities and powers. But he tri- 
umphs not for himself alone, but for his 
people, and as their surety and repre- 
sentative. Oh, how resplendent is the 
glory of the Lord of hosts. Behold, by 
the eye of faith, the King of saints seat- 



LETTERS. 59 

ed upon a throne of glory ; surrounded 
by angels, and the souls of just men 
made perfect ! Oh, how splendid the 
appearance, how dazzling the glory of 
that new Jerusalem. There, the divine 
persons sit enthroned ; and thither, the 
tribes of God, the saved of the nations, 
go up to celebrate their endless festival. 
Thither, those kings, who are crowned 
with righteousness, resort. There, grace 
attends them; and there, good works 
follow them. There, God is the sole 
monarch ; the Lamb their only light ; 
enlivening righteousness their only rai- 
ment ; rapturous acclamations of praise, 
their only employment ; and endless ho- 
nour and glory their firm, unfading crown. 
O, blessed city, where there is no sick- 
ness, no sorrow, no pain, no death, no 
curse ; but where holiness reigns, feli- 
city overflows, and God is all in all. O 
blessed city, within whose walls of light 



60 LETTERS. 

we shall understand nature, grace and 
glory; there, all our doubts shall be re- 
moved : for we shall see God face to 
face. Oh, that you and I may be ena- 
bled, in sincerity, to exclaim : " Fly 
swift, ye lingering moments, so that we 
may hear the cheering accents of angels 
saying unto us, ' Thy labours, and thy 
sorrows, are at an end ; the hour of 
thine infirmities prevails.' He does not 
bid us despond, but reminds us that we 
have an advocate with the Father, who 
is able to pity, pardon, and save to the 
uttermost. Think of the names he 
bears. Does he not call himself a Sa- 
viour, a Shepherd, a Friend, a Hus- 
band, Has he not made known to us 
his love, his blood, his righteousness, 
His promises, His power, and His 
grace ; and all for our encouragement ? 
iVway then with all doubting, unbeliev- 
ing thoughts, they will not only distress 



LETTERS. 



61 



your heart, but weaken your hands, 
Take it for granted, upon the warrant 
of his own word, that you are his and 
that he is yours ; that he has loved you 
with an everlasting love, and in loving 
kindness, has drawn you to himself. And 
he will surely accomplish what he has 
begun; so that nothing which can be 
named or thought of shall ever be able 
to separate you from him. This per- 
suasion will give you strength for the 
battle ; this is the shield which will 
quench the fiery darts of Satan. This is 
the helmet which the enemy cannot 
pierce. Above all, such a persuasion 
and well grounded hope of pardon and 
immortal life supports us against, or 
rather raises us above the fear of death. 
Mortal and dying as we are, in a state 
in which the smallest alteration in the 
body reminds us of death, what can be 

more comfortable to a believer than a 

6 



62 



LETTERS. 



firm, well grounded hope of eternal 
felicity ; than a shield to secure us 
against the enemy, and a sword to destroy 
him ? Oh, how foolish are those who are 
falsely secure ! who congratulate them- 
selves on having obtained the end, be- 
fore they have made use of the means j 
who stretch out their hands to receive 
the crown, before they have been em- 
ployed in fighting the battle ; who con- 
tent themselves with a false peace, and 
use no efforts to obtain the grace, to which 
true consolation is annexed. This is as 
dreadful a calm as that which some voy- 
agers have described ; a singular, but 
certain forerunner of a terrible event — 
on a sudden in the wide ocean, the sea 
becomes calm, the air serene, and the 
surface of the water smooth as glass and 
clear as crystal. The unskilled passen- 
ger is also tranquil and happy. But the 
old mariner trembles. In an instant, the 



LETTERS. 



63 



sea foams, the winds murmur, the 
heavens kindle, a thousand gulfs open, a 
frightful light inflames the air, and every 
wave threatens sudden death. This is 
a correct representation of too many 
people's assurance of salvation. May I 
never resemble those fools in religion 
who consider a confident expectation of 
attaining heavenly happiness as a privi- 
lege supplying the want of every virtue. 
And while I profess to feel the grace of 
assurance, may I never fail to exhibit its 
fruits; in living soberly, righteously, and 
godly. One thing is needful : an humble, 
dependent spirit ; renouncing our own 
wills, and unreservedly giving ourselves 
up to his disposal. This is the path of 
peace ; and it is also the path of safety — 
for he has said ! ; The meek he will teach 
his way, and those who yield themselves 
up to him, he will guide with his eye.' 
I hope he will guide youjvvith his^eye. I 



64 LETTERS. 

hope you will fight and pray against 
every rising of a murmuring spirit ; and 
be thankful for the great things which he 
has already done for you. It is good to 
be humble on account of sin, but not to 
be discouraged ; for though we are poor 
creatures, Jesus is a complete Saviour, 
and we bring more honour to God by 
believing on his name, and trusting in his 
word of promise, than we could possibly 
do by a thousand outward works. Many 
things offer amusement to us. Some 
deserve and require a degree of atten- 
tion ; but one thing is especially needful. 
What a mercy is it that this one thing, 
which mountains of gold and silver can- 
not purchase, is to be had without any 
payment ! May the Lord engrave it 
deeply upon your heart and mine. As 
sure as the sun will rise to-morrow, so 
sure is his promise that he will in no wise 
cast out them that come unto him. If 



LETTERS. 65 

we have a desire for his blessing, it is he 
who first gave us that desire ; and there- 
fore, he will not disappoint us. 

I long to see you, and to hear you re- 
joice in his salvation. He only knows 
the many prayers I have offered for you. 
I trust, not in vain. I cannot doubt but 
that " the one thing needful" is your 
chief desire. Every thing else will 
shortly fail us; but the blessings of the 
gospel will last through death into eter- 
nity. Though our sins have been like 
scarlet, enormous as the mountains, and 
countless as the sands, the sum total is 
this : — " Sin hath abounded : but where 
sin hath abounded, grace hath much 
more abounded." 

I should rejoice in being the instru- 
ment of administering comfort to you. I 
hope to hear from you soon : and trust 
that you will then be able to inform me, 

that the Lord has restored you to the 

6* 



66 LETTERS. 

joy of his salvation. But, should it not 
be so at present, wait for him and you 
shall not wait in vain. 
I am, 

Your's, &c. 

A. Haynes, 



LETTERS. 67 



LETTER IV. 



Dear Friend, 

I embarked this morning at four 
o'clock for England. We left tire shore 
with a gale, which promised a quick 
passage ; but to our great mortification, 
it soon died away into a perfect calm. 
During this subsidingof the winds, I view- 
ed the glassy surface of the ocean with 
a mind smooth, unruffled, and serene. 
The morning in its loveliness, the ocean 
in its smoothness, and the prospect in its 
immensity : these had each a peculiar 
impression. But evening wore a differ- 
ent nature — The wind came on upon 
the wings of night; and, as the darkness 
increased, the sea became agitated — 
the stars twinkled in the horizon — the 
breeze freshened upon the waters — the 
ocean in huge volumes, rolled along, 



68 LETTERS. 

wave propelling wave, and a dusky and 
scarcely discernable shade of orange, 
which the departing sun had left behind 
him, hung upon the extreme of the 
ocean. The sails were filled with the 
wind; and the vessel scudded along 
upon the waves. 

After three days' sail, we reached the 
harbour of Tranmear. After taking- 
some refreshment, I proceeded on my 
journey to Runeun ; and the castle being 
distant only one mile, I took the advan- 
tage of paying it a visit. 

The path by which I approached this 
majestic ruin, laid along a gently sloping 
upland. The building had lost much of 
its splendour, by the ravages of time; 
but it still retained a touching sublimity. 
Steep and irregular mountains formed a 
grand outline of dark and barren ridges; 
and below them, the eye could distin- 
guish, here and there ; a plentiful vegeta- 



LETTERS. 69 

tion of firs and pines. Upon advancing 
nearer to these relicks of grandeur, the 
ear was delighted with the sound of re- 
sistless torrents, tumbling in greenish 
columns from the overhanging summits, 
and rolling in foaming currents along the 
valley. Some places were marked with 
bold and projecting rocks, formed by 
waters whose sources were invisible ; 
diversified by gentle acclivities, and 
scattered over with tufts of fragrant 
herbage ; which afforded food to the 
playful young mountain goats, and other- 
wise enlivened the solitary aspect of the 
surrounding scenery. 

When I entered the delapidated cas- 
tle, and explored its ruins, the lofty bat- 
tlements and marble aisles proclaimed 
that here once lived the nobles of the 
land. " Ah," said I, " within these wall, 
sat the silver-headed senator deciding 
on the fat ? of nations ; — beneath these? 



70 LETTERS. 

splendid arches flowed the c oratory of the 
eloquent speaker ; — and within this gor- 
geous palace the innocent, helpless fe- 
male was concealed from the face of the 
savage warrior. But now, the creeping 
ivy entwines itself around the moulder- 
ing edifice ; — the hissing serpent glides 
along the marhle aisles ; other poison- 
ous reptiles conceal themselves beneath 
the bushy bramble ; and here the birds 
of prey protect their unfledged young. 
And yet, even this ruinous place is cal- 
culated to impress the mind with a 
variety of pleasing and profitable reflec- 
tions. 

When David wishes to describe the 
safety of those who put their trust in 
God, he says, ; I will lift up mine eyes 
unto the hills, from whence ariseth my 
help. My joy cometh from the Lord, 
who made heaven and earth.' And 
those sweet streams of water bring to my 



LETTERS. 71 

mind the wonders that the Lord wrought 
for the people of old ; when he made 
the water to flow out of the rock, and 
when he followed them through the bar- 
ren desart. They also ought to remind 
the Christian that he is only a pilgrim ; 
a very prisoner. We see that the Jews, 
when they were carried captive into 
Babylon, sat down and wept by the 
rivers thereof, ; yea, they wept when 
they remembered Zion.' And again, 
David, when speaking of his zeal to 
serve God in the temple, says, " As the 
hart panteth after the water-brook, so 
panteth my soul after thee, O God ; my 
soul thirsteth for the living God, when 
shall I come and appear before him." 
Here then we see there is an important 
lesson set before every man ; and which 
it becomes his duty to learn and prac- 
tice. Some may say, that they have to 
toil early and late to obtain a livelihood, 



72 LETTERS, 

and it is not in their power to attend to 
spiritual concerns. I would request 
those who thus argue, to look for a mo- 
ment at the conduct of the ancient 
monks. Casson tells us, that when their 
hands were employed at their daily oc- 
cupations, they repeated their religious 
services. St. Jerome, describing the 
pleasant valley of Bethlehem, says, 
; Near the city of Christ there is nothing 
heard but the ploughmen singing the 
Psalms of David, as he follows his 
plough ; and the vme-dresser amusing 
himself with sacred hymns. Thus, while 
their hands are busily employed in pro- 
viding food for their bodies, their minds 
are lifted up to the Lord in behalf of 
their never-dying souls.' Who then can 
say they are deprived of time or oppor- 
tunity to serve the God of heaven and 
earth ? Can they not lift up their hearts 
in secret ejaculation, in short but fervent 



LETTERS. 73 

prayers, which will be accepted as the 
widow's mite was accepted ; and which 
our Lord said was more highly esteem- 
ed than the rich gifts of those who had 
cast in of their abundance." 

While I rambled in the midst of the 
mountains, the night was perfectly fine 
and serene. I was favoured with a frame 
of mind I cannot always command. My 
attachment to the world has greatly 
lessened since I left my native country ; 
and, with it, all the honours, pleasures, 
and riches of life. I feel more like a 
pilgrim in a dry and thirsty land. Hea- 
ven, I trust, is my home ; and there I 
hope my weary soul will sweetly rest 
after a tempestuous voyage across the 
ocean of life. I love to anticipate what 
I shall be when I have finished my hea- 
venly Father's work upon earth. How 
solacing is the thought of glory while I 

wander here in the mist of this wilder- 

7 



74 LETTERS. 

ness. 1 often contemplate the path 
through which I have wandered, al- 
though I have met with many severe 
trials, under which nothing but sovereign 
grace could have supported me. Some- 
times, I have the most ardent desire to 
see you and my other dear friends. The 
sacrifice which I have made is indeed 
great ; but the light of the Lord's coun- 
tenance can enliven every dreary scene, 
and make the path of duty pleasant. If 
it be the Lord's will to spare me a little 
longer, I shall soon be in a foreign clime ; 
but even then I shall have nothing to 
fear ; for He who has hitherto brought 
me through innumerable trials, will not 
forsake me at this juncture. When 
earthly friends forsake me, the Lord 
will take me up. 

I expect to hear from you as soon as I 
arrive in New-York. I often look to- 
wards London : but, alas ! rugged moun- 



LETTERS. 75 

tains and the blue sky are all I can per- 
ceive. But there is a land, dear friend, 
where stormy seas and rugged hills can- 
not intervene ; where I hope to meet 
you and my beloved friends, but to whom 
on earth I bid adieu. May the Lord in- 
crease his light in your heart, and in the 
heart of — , &c. 

A. Haynes. 



LETTERS. 77 



LETTER V, 



Dear Friend? 

After a day's confinement to my study, 
I walked out for the benefit of my health. 
The moon was shining bright, and most 
agreeably supplied the place of the sun, 
and gave me as much light as was ne- 
cessary to discover a thousand pleasing 
objects. The fanning of the wind, the 
rustling of the leaves, the singing of the 
thrush and nightingale, and the coolness 
of the walks, all conspired to make me 
lay aside displeasing thoughts. In this 
sweet retirement, I naturally fell to re- 
peating some lines out of a poem of 
Milton's. The ideas were suited to my 
then present wanderings of thought : 

" Sweet bird, that shunn'st the noise of folly, 

u Most musical, most melancholly ! 

7# 



78 LETTERS. 

" Thee, chantress, oft the woods among, 
" I woo, to hear thy even' song ; 
" And missing thee, I walk unseen 
" On the dry smooth-shaven green, 
" To behold the wand'ring moon, 
" Riding near her highest noon, 
" Like one that had been led astray 
" Through the heav'ns wide pathless wayv 
6i And oft, as if her head she bow'd, 
Ci Stooping through a fleecy cloud. 
***** 
u And let some strange mysterious dream 
" Wave at his wings in airy stream 
iC Of lively portraiture display' d, 
" Softly on my eyelids laid ; 
" And as I wake sweet music breathe 
" Above, about, or underneath, 
" Sent by some spirit to mortals good, 
i{ Or th' unseen Genius of the wood." 

As I indulged myself amid the roman- 
tic scenery, i observed some dark towers 
rising from among the trees at a dis- 
tance. As I approached them, 1 per- 



LETTERS. 79 

eeived the remains of a gothic Abbey. 
It stood upon a kind of rude lawn, over- 
shadowed by high and spreading trees 
which seemed coeval with the building; 
and diffused a romantic gloom around. 
The greater part of the pile appeared 
to be sinking into decay ; and that which 
had withstood the ravages of time show- 
ed the remaining features of the fabric 
more awfully. The lofty battlements, 
thickly enwreathed with ivy, were de- 
molished; and they had become the 
residence of birds of prey. The main 
entrance was by a gothic gate ; richly 
ornamented with carved work. This 
led into the body of the edifice. I en- 
tered what appeared to have been the 
chapel of the Abbey ; and, where the 
hymn of devotion had once been raised, 
and the tear of penitence shed — sounds 
and tears which could now only be re- 
called by imagination. 



80 LETTERS. 

As I explored these walls. I felt a"sub- 
lime sensation rising into terror, a ming- 
ling of astonishment and awe. . Several 
of the pillars, which had once support- 
ed the roof, remained as the proud eiiigies 
of sinking greatness, and seemed to nod 
at every murmur of the blast over the 
fragments of those that had fallen a little 
time before. I heaved a deep sigh. 
• ; Ah." said I. " the similitude between 
myself and the degradation and decay 
which these columns exhibit, is but too 
obvious and affecting. And in a few 
years. I shall become like the mortals 
who once inhabited the relicks which I 
now gaze upon, and who have been hur- 
ried down the current of life. And I may 
too be the subject of meditation to a dis- 
tant survivor, but he shall totter but a little 
while over the object he contemplates, 
and then he also must sink into the dust. 

As I was about to leave the melancholy 



LETTERS. 81 

spot, I still reflected on its ruins ; and 
fancy bore me back to past ages. What 
astonishing changes have taken place in 
various countries on the face of the earth! 
One kingdom has fallen, and another 
been raised on its ruins. One prince 
has been put down, and another set up. 
One ruler has been circumvented by 
fraud, and another expelled by force. 
A people have groaned under the hor- 
rors of war, another pined under the 
pressure of famine — while others have 
languished under the ravages of a pesti- 
lence. Such a view of the vicissitudes 
of time should lead us to prepare for the 
land which knows no change, which is 
free from contention and from sickness ; 
a better country, even an heavenly one. 
Time, like a rapid stream, sweeps away 
all things not immortal. Where are the 
places renowned of old for beauty and 
defence. They are known to us only 



82 



LETTERS. 



by their names and their ruins. Here 
and there are remains of temples in 
which our fathers worshipped. Even 
Jerusalem, and the temple of Mount 
Zion, of which such glorious things are 
said, have not one stone left upon an- 
other — Babylon the great, is fallen. Fa- 
milies, states, empires, and churches 
have their rise, their glory, and their de- 
cline. The world is a vast theatre in 
which every man makes his entrance for 
a moment ; and then in the same space 
of time, disappears. Every succeeding 
instant presents different scenery, and a 
new decoration. I conceive these vicis- 
situdes to myself, under the emblem of 
what is felt by a man employed in turn- 
ing over the pages of history. He pores 
over his book, and beholds on this leaf 
one people and one king ; he turns to 
another, and there he finds other laws, 
maxims and actors. " One generation 



LETTERS. 83 

goeth, and another cometh." People are 
like the leaves of the forest ; they pass 
with the wind, and other leaves lift their 
green heads and flourish. 

" With constant motion, as the moments glide, 

u Behold in running life the rolling tide ; 

" For none can stem by art, or stop by power, 

" The flowing ocean, or the fleeting hour. 

" But wave, by wave pursued, arrives on shore ; 

" And each impell'd behind, impels before. 

" So time, on time, revolving we descry ; 

" So minutes follow, and so minutes fly." 

Let us remember we also must pass 
away and mingle with our kindred dust; 
and that we are waiting for our glorious 
resurrection to immortal life. There is 
a limit appointed by Providence to the 
duration of all the pleasant and desira- 
ble scenes in life ; to all the works of the 
hands of men ; to all the glories and ex- 
cellencies of animal nature ; and to all 
that is constituted of flesh and blood. 



#4 LETTERS. 

What are those stately buildings and 
princely, palaces which now entertain 
and amuse our sight with ranks of mar- 
ble columns, wide-spreading arches, and 
gay erections ; enriching our imagina- 
tion with a thousand royal ornaments ? 
Time, with its wing, will insensibly bring 
them into decay ; and, in a few years, 
they will be mouldering in ruins. What 
are those elegant gardens, those delight- 
ful walks, those gentle ascents, and soft 
declining slopes, which raise the soul of 
the beholder into enchantment. 

These sweet borders and growing 
varieties of bloom and fruit seem to re- 
call lost paradise to mind ; but soon will 
the scythe of time pass over them, and 
they will wither and die. " As for man 
he cometh forth as a flower of the field ;" 
he unfolds his beauty in youth ; and 
flourishes awhile in the vigour of man- 
hood. But lo, in a moment his breath 



LETTERS. 85 

goes out ; he bows his drooping head 
and mingles again with his native dust. 
His friends and companions look for him 
or the spot which he once adorned ; but, 
in vain the earth has opened her mouth 
to receive him. Thus every thing around 
combines to remind us of our frailty. 
Nature, in her simplest appearance con- 
tinually brings this subject to our recol- 
lection. Cold and heat, day and night, 
summer and winter, and seed-time and 
harvest, perpetually succeed one an r 
other, and are each of short duration. 
Is not the renewing of the face of the earth 
a striking emblem of the resurrection of 
our bodies from the dust of the grave ? 
This grand doctrine is clearly revealed in 
the gospel of Jesus Christ, but in the re- 
newal of nature we have a convincing 
analogy. The great and glorious being 
who renews inanimate nature, can and 

will indue time, restore the human frame. 
8 



86 



LETTERS. 



This doctrine cheers our hearts, con- 
firms our faith, and directs our views to 
that auspicious morn when this mortal 
which is hastening to the tomb shall put 
on immortality. Christians are not ex- 
empt from the grave ; their ashes must 
mingle with their kindred dust. But 
Jesus is the resurrection and the life ; he 
has conquered over sin, death, and the 
grave. Therefore, child of immortality, 
mourn no longer. Remember what the 
angel said to Mary, who was weeping at 
the sepulchre of the risen Redeemer, 
" Woman why weepest thou ? he is not 
here, he is risen as he said, come see the 
place where the Lord lay." Dry up thy 
tears ; shout for joy, for the Lord of glory 
triumphs in his resurrection. By the eye 
of faith behold the triumphant Conquer- 
or seated upon his throne, from his girdle 
is suspended the massy keys of death, 
and, by passing through the grave, he 



LETTERS. 87 

has made a passage for us to the realms 
of light. The flower which faded in 
Adam, blooms afresh in Jesus Christ the 
Lord ; never to fade again. The mercy 
of Jehovah in the Messiah is everlasting j 
and of that mercy sinful man is the ob- 
ject. Come then, dear friend, be of good 
cheer Why are you thus disquieted with 
fearful doubting ? the Lord of glory 
knows our infirmities and what tempta- 
tions mean ; and as a good shepherd, he 
exercises a peculiar care and tenderness 
for the weak lambs of his flock : for he 
says, " comfort ye my people." But, 
how must I attempt to comfort you? 
Surely, not by strengthening a mistake to 
which we are all too liable : by leading 
you to look into your -own he^rt for some- 
thing upon which to ground your hopes. 
No, rather let me endeavour to lead you 
out of yourself; and invite you to look 
to Jesus, Should we look for lighten our 



38 LETTERS. 

own eyes ; or in the sun ? If it be indwel- 
ling-sin which distresses you, then I can 
tell you, though you know it, that Jesus 
died for sinners. His blood and right- 
eousness are of infinite value ; his arm 
is an almighty arm, and his compassion 
is infinite. You read his promises ; and 
why should you doubt their fulfilment ? 
If you say you do not question these 
truths, or that they are accomplished in 
many, but that you can hardly believe 
they belong to you : — 1 would ask, 
what evidence do you require ? Do you 
expect a voice, or an angel, from hea- 
ven ? Consider whether many of the pro- 
mises are not expressly addressed to 
you. 

When you read your name on this 
letter, you will not scruple to open it : 
why then do you hesitate to embrace the 
promises of the Gospel. If you are 
afraid that your faith is not genuine, or 



LETTERS. 89 

not strong enough, consider that thisrea- 
soning is far from the spirit of the Gos- 
pel : for such language as this is ground- 
ed on a supposition, that in the forgive- 
ness of sin, God hath respect to some- 
thing more than the atonement and medi- 
ation of Jesus, namely, to some previous 
good qualifications in a sinner's heart, 
which are to share with the blood of Christ 
in the honour of salvation. We are de- 
ceived in this matter — the more easily, 
because a propensity to the covenant of 
works is a part of our natural depravity. 
1 am sorry that you are still perplexed 
about the high points of election. I 
would advise you to leave how others 
are to be disposed of to the Great Judge, 
who doth according to his will in the 
armies of heaven ; and, as to yourself, I 
think I need not say much to persuade 
you, that if ever you be saved, it must be 
by free grace. Leave disputes to others ; 



90 LETTERS. 

wait upon the Lord, and he will teach 
you all things in due time. Perhaps you 
have suffered from taking things too 
much upon trust from men. Cease from 
man's sayings, whose breath is in his 
nostrils. One is your master, even God. 
Study, and pray over your Bible : gird 
on the armour of the Gospel ; quit your- 
self like a man, and fight with undaunt- 
ed courage, to obtain the victory over 
the; enemy. Take, in your hand, the 
shield of faith; and the sword of the 
Spirit. Believe, that through the strength 
of the Redeemer you can do all things : 
for the love of him who hath called you 
to the combat is infinitely stronger to- 
wards you than death. The glorified 
saints were once warriors ; but now they 
are conquerors. Flesh, earth, and hell 
were their enemies, but faith, hope, love, 
and all other Christian virtues were their 
armour. It would be easy to enlarge in 



LETTERS. 91 

this way, did paper and time permit ; 
but we may rest assured, from what we 
read in Scripture, that all the trials of 
the Christian's life may be likened to 
that of a brave warrior, who, after many 
long and fatiguing campaigns, returns in 
joy and triumph, and crowned with vic- 
torious laurels, to his long-loved native 
country ; or, like a weary mariner, who, 
after being long tossed by tempests, at 
last arrives at the desired haven, and is 
cherished in the bosoms of his dear 
friends. The righteous are said to be 
scarcely saved ; not in respect to the 
certainty of the event, for the purposes 
of God in their favour cannot be disap- 
pointed : but in respect of their own 
apprehensions, and the great difficulties 
they are brought through. They will 
not ascribe any thing to themselves; 
but are glad to acknowledge, that they 
must have perished, if Jesus had not 



92 LETTERS. 

been their Saviour, their Shepherd, and 
their Shield. When they were wander- 
ing, he brought them back; when sink- 
ing, he upheld them ; when falling, he 
raised them; when fainting, he revived 
them; and by him, out of weakness, 
they have been made strong. " He 
hath taught their hands to war, and 
covered their heads in the day of battle;" 
he hath guided them by his wisdom, 
strengthened them by his power, and 
comforted them with the light of his 
countenance. 

But I will relinquish the subject, for, 
perhaps, as it is, I have tired your pa- 
tience. Allow me only to add, oh, that 
you and I may hear God say at last, 
" Well done, thou good and faithful ser- 
vant; enter thou into the joy of thy 
Lord." 

Your's truly, &c. 

A. Haynes. 



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